


He's My Son And He  Can’t Be Gone

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [154]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Stiles Stilinski Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words said by the doctor doesn’t make any sense to him, his son just couldn’t be gone. He was there, and his heart was beating, and so Stiles couldn’t be gone. Stiles couldn’t just leave him, not like this. Stiles couldn't be gone, not before John was sure his son knew how much he loved his little boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's My Son And He  Can’t Be Gone

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are another 15minutes moment in time, to those unfamiliar with this demented dance know that each fic is written under the time of 15min which is the reason for the overall name of the series, each fic is a request/demand made by my friends this one is/was made by Quadraphonic-Phobic who desired a fic where Stiles dies and the Sheriff struggles with it, she wanted it to take place during season 2 and she just forgot to tell me a very BIG and IMPORTANT detail which left this fic wanting. 
> 
> Quadraphonic-phobic wanted the death to be due to Stiles saving Derek’s ass in the pool… not that detail would’ve helped me A LOT because I just couldn’t get the fic going so my apologize for the poor quality, it seems today just isn’t my killing of Stiles day. Oh and she wanted a hint if possible of a possible Sterek thing, which she gave me like two or three minutes before the time ended…. I dare say she is trying to kill me.

  
They’d been arguing which in itself was nothing new as it seemed to have become the norm in their daily lives. They had been arguing or at least he’d started yelling at his son as soon as his son showed his face, or at least he thinks he'd been the one to start the argument that had quickly fallowed when Stiles stepped inside the house, it was hard to tell as arguing had become the way of their daily interaction even before everything went to shit with Stiles kidnapping Whittemore’s son, certainly John had always protested against the healthy diet Stiles had him on but this had been something far more different and uglier than anything born from salad or tofu.

He could remember vaguely that he’d seen red when Stiles had brought-up his drinking, which of course he knew had gotten out of hand and yet he struggled to admit it even now as he sat there clinging on to his son desperate for his little boy to know he was there, that he wasn't going to abandon Stiles.  

His hands are shaking, or maybe it's John's entire body that shook, he couldn't focus enough to be certain.

John Stilinski the former Sheriff of Beacon Hills just couldn’t put his finger on exactly what had pushed the argument they’d had to the point where his son decided to rush out of the house instead of just hiding away upstairs in his bedroom. What John knew however was that Stiles had walked out of the house yelling at him about something that he was almost certain had to do with his drinking, and John had in his drunken state hit his own son as soon as he was close enough to do so and grabbing the keys of the Jeep from Stiles hand.

John knows without a shadow of doubt that he'd been the one who'd tossed the jeys out onto the road saying something that he knew he shouldn’t have said, he’d known it the moment the words had left his lips and yet he couldn’t recall what he had said, he could however recall painfully clear the look that was drawn upon the face of his son who had been sporting a bleeding nose and a busted lip.

Stiles hadn’t said a thing just looked at him with wide tearful eyes, the anger John had expected to be there hadn't been there, all he saw was a sadness that seemed to have enough power to stop John’s heart and although he’d wanted to say something to take back whatever it was he’d said that had made his son look so heartbroken John just couldn’t speak through the lump that had suddenly made a home in his throat.

`I wish it too, you know,´ his son had said as he started towards the keys that sat waiting in the middle of the street, his son didn’t even look at him, `I wish that it had been me and not her, because I know you loved her.´

Those few words, that small confession, would haunt John to the day he died as would the sight of seeing his only child, his pale skinned boy getting hit by a speeding car, a car he couldn’t remember in detail as all he could recall was the way his sons body moved and the sounds that came with the impact, all he could remember was the unnatural way Stiles body moved before it finally dropped to the ground hitting the pavement with a strange sort of thud, there had been no dramatic rolls or bouncing just a flight and a drop and a dreadful crack as Stiles head hit the ground.

The car hadn’t stopped it just drove on like nothing had happened, continuing to speed down the street with the windscreen a mess the hood and roof undoubtedly dented carrying signs of where Stiles' body had made its dreadful contact, the car had hit his son and just vanished down the street engine roaring while John screamed in horror.

John had stumbled over to his son, his son who had still been clutching onto those damn keys.

He’d pulled his little boy into his arms, screaming for help while cradling his sons shattered face, a few bloodied teeth and a piece of tongue resting on the pavement near them.

Someone other than John had called the ambulance that arrived at some point, John knows it couldn't have been him because he'd been in no state to call anyone.   
  
Sitting there waiting for his son to wake-up in a small dimly lit room waiting for his unconscious son to stir or to just open his eyes since there had been a great deal of damage to Stiles’ spine.

Quadriplegic, his son was quadriplegic now because John had done such a juvenile thing as throwing the keys to the Jeep out onto the road, this was not Stiles fault no it was all John's and the damn driver of that car.

 John wasn’t sure his son would ever be able to forgive him for rendering his body motionless, but even if Stiles would never forgive him for it John was determined to never again let his son down.

Never again, not as long as there was a breath in John’s body and his heart was beating would John Stilinski do another damn thing to hurt his son, that was a promise he made to his unconscious son as he clung to the pale hand attached to a body that was far too still.

John couldn’t recall a day in Stiles life that he’d ever been this motionless, and it was terrifying in a sort of strange and surreal sort of way, it was as if the car had hit the vibrant energy that had always been there right out of Stiles body leaving behind this silent and still Stiles that was so very unfamiliar to him; even before John or Claudia could hold him in their arms Stiles had been all motion, always moving inside his mother causing doctor’s to run a few extra test to make sure nothing was wrong with Claudia or the baby growing inside her, there had even been suspicions that there might’ve been another child there inside her with the little boy that during a scan had one hand raised with his middle-finger raised, Claudia had kept that picture in her wallet laughing to friends how her son was a badass punk of a baby.

How many days had he sat there, John wondered as his hands shook and his body felt unfamiliar and uneasy, there was a burning thirst in his throat that no water could sooth, and if he wasn’t so afraid of losing his son who wasn’t breathing on his own at the moment well then John would’ve thought about nipping down to the nearest bar just for one a drink – just one, just one drink to help him through the day. But John couldn’t leave not until he could be sure he wouldn’t walk back into the hospital only to find his son had passed away without him knowing it.

John sits there feeling awful his mind going back to that last moment with his son, trying to find something to make the reality of things different, to make the fear and worry inside him a bit less suffocating.

He barely notices when Melissa slipped inside the room followed closely by a doctor, John isn’t sure he’s seen or talked to this doctor before since he’s been struggling with focusing on anything but his son, he knows there’s been a lot of people walking in and out of the room and that more than one test had been made on his son; and yet he can’t remember what had been done or what had been said, and John worries he’s losing his mind because he doesn’t feel like he’s really there but that this is but a horrid drunken nightmare from which he had to awaken from at any minute now.

John knows just by looking at Melissa whose eyes were red-rimmed and who just couldn’t catch his eyes that the news wasn’t good, perhaps there was brain damage to boot. He instinctively squeezes the limp hand in his own a little bit tighter and readies himself for the news that his son would be brain damaged, or in need of more surgeries after all hadn’t someone said there was a bleed somewhere?

He wills himself to be brave and strong for Stiles, his son needs him to be strong for the both of them now.

The news given makes no sense to him, the words seem unreal and he struggles to understand it.

Brain dead.

Brain dead, his son was brain dead.

He was gone they said but that can’t be true.

John doesn’t believe it, and he demands a second opinion only to hear this is the fourth one that he’d already demanded this three times which doesn’t make sense because surely he would remember it.

Suddenly he feels crowded with talks about organ donations and letting his son go, there’s a sympathetic hand on his shoulder that feels too heavy and cruel for him to bare it.

He screams at them all to leave, to leave him alone, to leave him and his son alone because they are all so very wrong because his son wasn’t gone he was just resting. His son would wake-up when he was ready to do so, after all Stiles didn’t like pain and so of course he wouldn’t want to wake-up while his bones were still broken and there were scars still mending.

They do leave him but not for long, people come and go trying to talk to him and all he does is scream at them, demanding them to leave and to leave his son and his organs alone because Stiles needs them for when he wakes-up, he demands to have his son transferred to another hospital where there aren’t vultures just waiting to pick Stiles’ organs away.

John isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there, holding onto his son and talking to him as if Stiles could hear him when Melissa slips in, she’s says nothing just sits next to him for a while. It isn’t until John brings back the idea of having Stiles moved.

Melissa takes his hand, the one that wasn’t occupied with clinging on to his bruised and broken boy, her voice is soft and gentle as she says, ` John, do you remember what Stiles said a few years ago, about what he’d want if – if there was no chance of him ever making a full-recovery? ´

Of course John does, he’d been so mad at his son for that idiotic slip-up that he’d grounded Stiles for a month which lasted two days since Melissa had thought he couldn’t punish his son for voicing his wish about what to do if he ever ended-up on life-support with no real prospect of a recovery that would allow Stiles to go on with his life doing all the things he’d always enjoyed doing.

`He was just being a stupid kid,´ John quickly responds since he knows where Melissa is going with this conversation, `he didn’t know what he was saying.´ John argues holding on ever so tighter to the hand that feels far too light in his hold.

`No. No John, you’re wrong.´ Melissa says voice soft and sorrowful, `Stiles stopped living in a naïve little bubble of silly dreams and hopes long before Claudia died, and you know that. You know he meant it and that’s why you were so mad.´

`He’s not going anywhere.´ John says firmly.

`He’s already gone John.´ Melissa says and she sounds like she’s holding back her tears, and perhaps she is, he doesn’t know as his eyes are searching for some sign from his son that will prove her and everyone else wrong.

`The question is, ´ Melissa whispers after a pause, and `Would Stiles rather leave this world without – without giving his all? ´

`He’s not going anywhere.´ John repeats stubbornly because his son will be fine, his son is going to wake-up and prove all the doctors and nurses wrong.

John refuses to accept the idea that his son isn’t there, even after the middle-aged woman with the annoyingly soft and gentle voice that just made him even more angry and unwilling to listen to the nonsense of spewed.

John doesn’t need grief counseling and his son needs to keep his organs.

It isn’t until a few days later after a shower and some much needed rest that John came to realize upon his return to Stiles’ side that all that was left of his son was a sad shell. All John suddenly sees is a pale shell of a boy he once knew, and as the realization that his son was already gone that Stiles had been gone for days breaks John apart in a completely new and painful way, he drops down onto the floor screaming and sobbing out his misery.

It isn’t easy for him to let his son go, and yet he does it but not before allowing Scott to come over and say his goodbyes to his best friend, he’s however surprised to find Lydia Martin the girl he knew his son had been crushing on since third-grade it breaks his heart to know that the kiss she gives his son is the first and last kiss his little boy would ever have.

There was nothing easy about giving-up on your son, of surrendering the last of him to Death, but John stays until his son is well and truly gone and even once the time of death is given he stays for a few more minutes before making his way out of the hospital. John gets all the way back to the house that stood dark and dreadful, he gets out of the cab and makes it all the way to the door before he breaks down crying and that’s how his neighbors learn about the death of his son; he screams and cries his grief into the night.

He'd killed his own son, he'd killed his baby boy.


End file.
